


O My Heart

by CoffeeSpice



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders-centric, Apathy, Blood and Gore, Gen, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Self-Harm, implied/referenced eating disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-20 00:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeSpice/pseuds/CoffeeSpice
Summary: It's getting bad again.Will Virgil tell the others before it's too late?[Title from a Mother Mother album]





	O My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title is a Mother Mother song!
> 
> TW APATHY  
> TW SELF-HARM  
> TW BLOOD

Since he had woke up today, Virgil had just felt empty, as though there were something missing, all but a small pang of sorrow, though that wasn’t nearly as bad as the emptiness. He didn’t know why he felt like this, all he knew was he wanted it to stop. He had assumed the others were out doing something, it was completely silent in the house. He didn’t have anything to do, hell, even if he did, he couldn’t gather the strength to care. _Whatever_ , he thought bitterly.

For a while he just laid flat on his bed, looking up at the celling. Eventually, he grabbed his phone from under his pillows, and scrolled through a few different apps on his phone before settling on listening to music with the volume low, before continuing to stare up at the celling. For a while he had dissociated. When he snapped back to reality he instantly went for his phone, trying to find ways to ward away the emptiness, when he realized he hadn’t even gotten up once since he woke up, or even sat up for that matter. He shrugged that thought away, deciding it was best to not focus on that. After a few moments, he settled on mindlessly taking Buzzfeed quizzes, because hey, at least the results mean literally nothing, so he could just get away from the void in his mind for a while.

_A while_ had apparently meant 3 hours, he found as he looked at the time. Virgil realized that his music had stopped, for how long it had been off, he did not know, though after that he realized that, suddenly he felt a lot emptier than he had previously. Finally, he heaved himself up and out of bed. His stomach growled, but he really _couldn’t care less._ He stood still for a while, unsure what to do.

**_I could cut, at least I’d feel something than._ **

Any other thoughts that had been happening in the back of his mind stopped, that one echoing throughout his head now. Virgil, without any further thought, pulled a small box out from under his bed, and walked to his bathroom, locking the door after he entered. He didn’t care anymore, the only thing that would have stopped him was thinking about how Patton would react, but Patton wasn’t here, and he didn’t have to know about this.

He sat down the edge of the bathtub, looking down at the box in his lap, suddenly feeling hesitant. _Wow, an actual emotion, took long enough,_ he thought inwardly. The anxious side shook away any hesitance, and opened the box roughly, throwing down the lid and grabbing an old pocket knife that was beginning to rust, whatever, that didn’t matter, sides can’t get tetanus. He set the knife next to him, throwing off his hoodie to reveal a torn, lavender tee. He quickly picked up the knife, flipping it open and carelessly slicing through the skin of his wrist, moving the knife down a bit before slicing again, and repeating until there were countless cuts littering his left arm, all bleeding. A lot. There were streams of thick, dark crimson blood running down his arm, dripping on the ground. This was a lot more blood than he was used to, and in the back of his mind it occurred to him that he might be bleeding out. He couldn’t feel his fingers, and an icy feeling overtook him. His vision went dark at the corners as he fell into the tub, hitting his head hard before losing consciousness.

When Virgil came to, he felt a confusing, foggy feeling, as though he had cotton in his brain. When he opened his eyes and saw he was in his bath, he lurched up, confused. Then he saw it, what he did, and he remembered his day. He heard faint voices from downstairs and realized that it was probably about to be dinner. Thank _god_ it wasn’t already dinner, if it had been, they would have come to get him and seen, well, _this._ For a moment he just laid there before getting up. He cleaned his cuts, threw his jacket back on, and looked at himself for the first time of the day. _Oh god,_ he looked like roadkill. He couldn’t go down there like this.

**_Knock Knock_ **

“Virgil, dinner’s done! It’s spaghetti!!” Patton’s voice sounded from his door. “I’ll be down in a second Pat!” He yelled back while smearing concealer over every imperfection he could find, no matter how small. Once he had gotten his eyeshadow on, covering the almost purple dark circles, he went down to the kitchen.

He faintly felt the sting of his cuts but held back anything that may have shown his pain, the others didn’t have to know, they _couldn’t_ know. It was better this way. He didn’t need help, and he certainly didn’t need any more shame than he already had. It’s not like anything bad would happen if he kept this to himself, he’d be fine, right?


End file.
